


Resolutions

by dancinbutterfly



Category: Entourage
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-05
Updated: 2008-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-25 09:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1643180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancinbutterfly/pseuds/dancinbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's New Years Eve and Vince is moping. Spoilers for all of season 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resolutions

**Author's Note:**

> Written for anna

 

 

Note: Anna, your contribution to the Entourage fics this time around so you deserve one too. I hope this is in the ballpark of what you wanted. Sorry there's no baseball. :-)

Faithfully assisted by Pesha and Ashley. Thanks a million ladies! 

~*~*~

Turtle brings girls back to the house for New Years Eve because Vince just isn't feeling it. He hasn't been feeling much like going out since the disaster at Cannes seven months ago.

The fact that E's not around as much doesn't help. He still has a room down the hall. He's just never in it anymore. It's New Years and instead of being here, ready to tear it up, he's in Mississippi or wherever the fuck making sure that production on the set of _Beyond the Sun_ goes smoother than it did with _Medellín_. 

As far as Vince knows, Harvey still doesn't like E. He calls him nastier things than Billy and Ari ever have, but for an angry man, he isn't one to hold grudges. So Harvey talked to Joe Roberts who called the Murphy Group about turning a Steve Zaillian script into a real movie less than a week after they get back from France.

When E hangs up, he looks to Vince and says, "What should I do?" Vince grins like he's happy for him even though this is his worst nightmare come true and says, "Do it." Just like that, E's a real producer and he's busier than Ari.

Busier. Than. Ari. Vince hadn't thought that was possible, but from the moment Joe called, it was like his phone was surgically grafted to his ear. He's so busy that Vince actually has to hire himself a new manager. David Horowitz is a good guy, hand-picked by MGA, and he's an excellent manager.

But he's not E.

Vince has done a lot of letting go in the past six months, and he's hated every minute. He couldn't take the role E got for him in _Beyond the Sun_ because _Into the Clouds_ is still going happen and the dates conflict. Vince is well aware that David and Ari are the only reason _Clouds_ isn't wasting away in development purgatory and are why it's reworked by Christopher Nolan from _Silo_ back into the survival epic it's supposed to be.

Billy's gone and he feels bad about that but it's hard to bounce back from the kind of disaster that _Medellín_ was. He knows how lucky he is that he didn't lose _Clouds_ in all this. David did some ridiculously slick talking and Ari had to sling the bullshit fast and loose to manage it and he is grateful. Really. 

So he goes and he shoots mountain shots for hours in a snow-filled warehouse on the studio lot and waits for David to tell him that E's called. And some days, he does. 

Vince spends plenty of time being bitter, but there's a part of him that's just really amazed by his boy. E's put this movie together from a script and a prayer into an actual movie and he did it in about two months. That's pretty damn impressive.

Still, he glances over the girls Turtle's got frolicking in the pool this New Years Eve, digs out a pen, and writes "Be Less Bitter" on the napkin he should probably use on his drink.

Johnny's anal about resolutions. He has typed lists that he keeps in files that he then never looks at. He's got specific format like the freaking Ten Commandments so by the time Vince was ten he'd learned to avoid Johnny on New Years. 

Vince just feels like it's a good thing to do this year. Things are changing, fast, and he doesn't want to get left behind. Things have been shifting inside him since E left for Kentucky or Alabama and he's not sure what to do with them. So maybe if he makes some resolutions, and sticks to them, he'll be able to keep up.

So, number one: Talk to David and Ari about Next Project. Two: Be Less Bitter. Three...Three...

One of Turtle's girls, a blond with short cropped hair, drops her top and Turtle and Drama cheer. He glances up at their shouting just in time to see her smile and wink at him before diving into the pool.

He doesn't smile back. He doesn't really care about the impressive rack floating free in his pool. He's thinking about red hair and freckles and fists that throw a mean left hook. 

He draws the number 3 on the napkin over and over again because he knows there is one. You can't just have two New Year's resolutions. There's a rule somewhere. Johnny would know. 

The three is starting to look like an E and he sighs. That's a good one. Number three: Spend More Time With E. He stares at the now complete list on his napkin until the letters look like squiggles instead of anything meaningful. 

He's not sure how to make 2 and 3 happen though. E's got a real career now, one that's pulled him away from the gang more effectively than any girlfriend in the history of girlfriends. 

Vince shakes his head and shoves the napkin in his pocket. He rises from the deck chair he's been lounging on for the last hour and glances over at the pool. 

"I'm gonna crash," he calls to Johnny and Turtle. The girls groan and protest that it's too early but the guys nod to him, wave in thanks. There are three girls and two of them and no one famous for them to compete with. 

It's almost midnight in New York. He collapses on the couch and flips on Dick Clark to watch the ball drop in his home town. 

He and E did Times Square when they were sixteen. It was freezing cold, but to this day, its still one of the best parties he's ever been to. The girls to the right of them were ridiculously underdressed and needed "cuddle" for warmth and the middle aged couple to their left from Arizona had Irish Coffee, hot as lava and heavy on the Baileys, that they were more than willing to share, and they'd gotten just drunk enough not to care about the cold. 

He pulls out his cell phone and hit speed dial number one. He listens to the phone ring. And ring. And ring. When E's voice mail message begins, he grunts and tosses his cell on the coffee table. E's voice just makes him want him to be here more anyway. But what the fuck is E doing that he can't answer his phone at eleven-thirty on a Monday night? No, it's only eight-thirty here. 

Whatever. He's trying to be less bitter, isn't he? Now's a good time to start. He digs around the couch cushions because he's positive Turtle left a pipe here Friday night and if he's lucky, there's still enough of a hit left to help him with the bitter. 

It's a plastic psychedelic number about the size of a pencil but there's enough left in the bowl for him to work with. And ten minutes later, the pipe is empty and he is considerably less bitter.

But he's not stupid. He can't go through 2008 high all the time. He wouldn't want to. He's not Turtle. 

Still, he snags a joint from Turtle's stash when the bowl goes empty, leaving a ten in its place so that it's not technically stealing. The mellow high doesn't stop him from calling E's cell about a dozen more times. E never picks up and two hours later he's still staring at the TV, watching the ball drop for the third time—for Mountain Time, but who the fuck lives where there's Mountain Time anyway—and wondering how he's going to pull this off if he can't blink without seeing E behind his eyelids. 

He's pretty sure he can fake it, but his resolution isn't to fake being less bitter. So that probably won't work. He worries his lower lip and he pokes at the phone with his foot and wonders what it means that he misses E this much.

"What's wrong with you?"

"I'm trying to be less bitter." Vince says with a shrug.

"What've you got to be bitter about, movie star?"

Vince shrugs again. He needs to ask Turtle what the hell was in the joint because damn, he's hearing voices.

"Vince, are you high?"

"Just a little." Enough that Dick Clark is starting to look like Obi-Wan Kenobi. Old Obi-Wan though, not the young one in the crappy new movies. 

"Drama and Turtle let you get high on your own? Unbelievable."

The cushion shifts as a weight lands on the couch and he glances up from the TV. Okay. So the weed's not that great after all because Jesus, he's right there.

He's dropped an overnight bag on the couch next to Vince and he looks every inch the suit Billy was always accusing him of being. He's got his jacket draped over his shoulder because it's too hot in LA, even in December, to really pull that off if you don't have to. With the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, the top button undone, and his blue tie hanging loose around his neck, he looks like a real live grown up and that kind of blows Vince away. It's also crazy hot and Vince is surprisingly okay with thinking that. 

"E?"

"No, moron, Dick Clark." E shakes his head and drops his jacket on the love seat. "Of course it's me. Who else would it be?"

Vince is on his feet in an instant. He only trips a little pulling his foot off the coffee table. Then he's standing in front of E just...grinning. He wants to reach out and pull E into a hug but he's afraid that if he does, his hand'll go right through him because he could still be dreaming, a pot-brightened dream on the couch serenaded by the TV.

"What are you doing here?" 

"How many of those have you smoked?" E asks, eying the burnt out roach in the ashtray beside Vince's phone. 

"You're supposed to be in Louisiana," Vince charges on, ignoring the unimportant things and focusing on the key issue.

"It's South Carolina, Vince." E sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It's still South Carolina. Until we're done shooting, it'll be South Carolina. But yeah, Ryan broke his arm this morning and we're stopping production for a week until he's out of traction. So, I figured I'd come home for what's left of the holidays. Do Christmas late. I brought you guys' presents and everything."

Vince is grinning like a big dumb puppy, he can feel it. But he doesn't care 'cause E's here. All is right with his universe and man, that's nuts. That E makes his universe right. 

E drops onto the arm of the loveseat and looks up at him. His tie matches his eyes. They're so fucking blue that Vince has to laugh. 

"What?"

E's face is questioning and serious and everything Vince has missed since he left three months ago. Vince reaches out and grabs E's tie, wrapping it around his fist, and wonders how he's gone twenty-five years not known how fucking in love with E he is. Because seriously? How had he missed that? 

"Best Christmas present ever," Vince says firmly. He means it.

A line appears between E's eyes as his brow furrows. "What is? I haven't even given you guys anything yet."

"You. Here. It's just...so fucking awesome, E."

Then E smiles and oh, fuck. He's so screwed. "Good. Nice to know I didn't fly six hours across the country for nothing."

When he pulls on E's tie, it's just an impulse. But it brings E forward and it gives him something to hold onto as he presses his lips to E's. They're dry and soft and warm and they taste like beer and salt, probably from the peanuts he had on the plane.

E's lips are still but that doesn't stop Vince from kissing the hell out of them. And after a second or two, they part in a shocked gasp and Vince's tongue slides tentatively between them. It's the only timid thing about the kiss. 

He pulls away before E can do more than that and grins at him, the one that bought them this house. "How's that for nothing?"

"You..." E says, his eyes dark and his expression stunned, "You're a fucking maniac, you know that?"

"Yeah. But it's New Years, E."

"Not for another half hour, Vince. And even if it is-"

Vince wraps E's tie around his hand again, pulling him up to stand flush against him. E's small, about the same height as most of the girls he's dated but he feels so much better. He doesn't have to lean down too far to press his forehead to E's, so that their noses brush against each other. "I want to kiss you more, E."

"You're out of your mind," E whispers. "Vince, we can't do this."

"Can I kiss you some more?"

"You're not...I'm not..."

He rubs the side of his nose against E's. He feels so fucking good that Vince is pretty sure he'll drop dead if E says no. He's never wanted Ari's comments about everyone wanting him to be true as much as he does in this moment. "Please?"

E's hands fist in the fabric of his T-shirt. "Fuck, Vince."

"Yes," Vince breathes, trying to hide his relief. Want is not the issue. He's positive. "That sounds good too. If you let me kiss you again, we can fuck. Please, E."

"You're an idiot," E says again. "A complete idiot. Do you know what you're doing? Do you have any idea?" he demands. 

Before Vince can answer, E's kissing him and he gets it now. He totally understands why girls like Sloan and that Perfect Ten model from Australia, and even Kristen the Bitch would want to stay with him. He kisses like a fucking expert, like he's the only person on the planet, and Vince feels like he's melting. 

"We can't do this here," E mumbles, his lips bumping against Vince's with each word. "Johnny's car is out front."

"He and Turtle and some girls are at the pool," Vince replies. Getting the buttons of E's shirt undone is so much more interesting than semantics. 

"Come on," E says, grabbing him by the shirt front and dragging him down the hall. He passes his room and pulls them into Vince's, which is fine by Vince. E's room isn't very lived in anyway. 

Vince kicks the door shut behind him and enjoys the feeling E leading him through the room. Then E lets go and Vince lands with a thump on his own bed. E is standing a good three feet away, shirt two-thirds unbuttoned, lips full, arms crossed. 

And suddenly who this is and what they're doing gets very real.

"E?" He licks his lips and looks up at E who is towering over him now. 

"You awake now, Vince?" E demands, his face almost angry.

Vince blinks at him "I was never asleep."

"No? You fucking jumped me in the living room. You clearly weren't thinking."

"You jumped right back," he feels the need to point out because this is spinning away from him. And E is too far away. He might as well be back in Virginia, or whatever Southern state he's been in when he should be in SoCal with Vince.

"What was I supposed to do? Punch you?"

Vince shrugs. "If you didn't want me to. Yeah."

"I couldn't hit you. Twenty-five years, I've never hit you. I'm not gonna start now. I mean...fuck, Vince." E says. He rubs his face and finishes undoing his tie, which is kind of counter productive to the jumping. But he takes it off and shoves it in the pocket of his slacks, and glares at Vince. 

"Exactly," Vince says, springing to his feet because they're too far away. They've been a continent away from each other for months and now three feet is too fucking far away. Not now that he's felt him up close. "Exactly, E. Why're you being such a douche about this? I want you and you want me so let's just..." he licks his lips, slowly, and then gives E his best Oscar-worthy slow, steamy, do-me grin. "Fuck."

E pinches bridge of his nose. "I leave for a few weeks and you turn gay? What the hell happened when I was gone, Vince? Do we need to talk to David about this?"

"Turn gay?" Vince spits like it tastes bad. He doesn't get angry easy, but his balls are turning blue and where the fuck does E get off? "I didn't turn anything. I just fucking want _you_ , E."

"I'm not going to let you fuck up a good thing just because you've got an impulse. This," he waves a hand in the air between them, "is too important to me to let you to fuck it up."

Vince opens his mouth, because he wants to respond to that. He just...can't get his throat to work. E stares at him for an endless moment until Vince's vocal cords finally show some mercy and unlock. "Tell me, E, how is this going to fuck us up?"

"Sex changes things, Vince," E says, his hands shoved in his pockets. He sounds like something heavy is sitting on his chest. "It changes everything."

"So do miles. So does money. So does age," Vince says, working the scene for all he can, because this is the most important monologue he's ever delivered and he's flying completely unscripted. 

What he's going for now is more valuable than a Golden Globe, a SAG award or an Oscar. He's trying to win E. It's not easy but then, most of the things that have been worth it in his life have taken work. He moves towards him and places his hands on E's shoulders.

"It's been twenty-five years, three thousand miles, and millions of dollars and we're still standing. We're still you and me," he says, gesturing in the small space between them. "You fucking me through the floor is not going change that. We're always going to be you and me, E. It'll just be more, that's all."

"I can't believe this," E mutters, tilting his head back. "I'm crazy for even considering it."

Vince moves his right hand from E's shoulder to the side of his face. His hand looks good there, he thinks. His hand is big enough that it spans E's entire jaw and his thumb can reach up and stroke over E's cheekbone. 

"No you're not."

"You are not the voice of reason here, Vince."

"E, come on," he glances over at the clock on his night stand and rubs his cheekbone again. "I'm in love with you and we've got like, forty-five seconds until midnight."

E's blue eyes go so wide it's almost comical. His jaw actually drops and Vince wants to kiss those stunned lips. "You're what?"

"I'm in love with you. You knew that, didn't you?"

E laughs and Vince can feel his smile with his fingertips. "No. I didn't."

"Well now you do. I love you and we now have like seven seconds so I'm going to kiss you. Deal with it."

All over the city people count down three, two, one, happy New Year and E tastes fantastic. Hot and good and home. More home than this house. More home than dinner with his mom. More home than he's ever felt in his entire fucking life.

"I do," Vince says as they part. His arms are wrapped around E's neck and he could live in the way E's hands feel on his back. But in the pit of his stomach, he's feeling suddenly shy in a way he's never felt before. With E of all people. "Seriously, E. I do love you. You know that right?"

"I'm starting to get it," E chuckles. "You don't do anything halfway, do you?"

"Says the Heartbreak Kid," Vince teases with a lightness he doesn't feel. "E..."

"Yeah?"

"Come with me?"

"I'm here aren't I? I came all the way across the country. Where to now?"

Vince glances over his shoulder towards his bed, rumpled and completely unmade and for the first time in his life - words fail him. He licks his lips and hopes that E will be E and just get it.

E smiles that "I can't believe you, Vince" smile and slides his hands down to Vince's hips. It's so easy to let E lead him that it's second nature to let him guide them to the bed. 

"I've never-" E starts to explain then stops. He shakes his head at himself and pushes Vince back instead. Vince falls to the mattress a slave to gravity and the dark look in E's eyes. "You know what? We can wing it."

And oh, fuck, E's on top of him and he's heavy for a little guy, more solid than any girl he's ever been with. His knees are straddling Vince's thighs so that they're pressed together in all the right places. E's hands are in his hair and his lips are on Vince's throat and if he could just get E's fucking shirt off, this would be perfect.

"E," he pants, his hips thrusting up into E's helplessly. His hands are tearing at white cotton blend and if E doesn't get it the fuck off he'll rip it. Hell, he may rip it anyway. That'd be another first. He's never ripped anyone's clothes off in real life. "E, fuck, E."

"Wait," E hisses, trying to break away. "Wait, Vince. Let me just-"

"No," Vince growls, pulling himself up because E's mouth is too far away. He's tired of E being far away.

He wants to live in E's mouth, but E rears all the way back so he's sitting straight up and fuck, that's hot too. Like E's riding him or something and oh Jesus fuck, his hips are moving again. He can't help it and E's in just the right spot for pleasure to spike all the way through his body.

"Just hold still," E says in a voice Vince has never heard before. It rough and hot and better than anything he's ever heard before. 

He does his best to freeze as E peels his shirt from his body. He tries, he really does, but E starts on his slacks and the muscles in his legs are twitching and trembling. His hand moves, on its own, to E's fly and E grabs it and holds it. Brings it up to his mouth and fuck, fuck Vince is pretty sure he's dying.

For someone who's never done this before, E's pretty fucking creative. Vince isn't sure he'll survive it.

"E," he gasps as he glimpses a little bit of tongue darting between firm lips. He's got too many clothes on, and this just isn't fair. "Jesus, E."

His fingers are freaking shining as E releases his hand.

"What do you want Vince?"

What the hell kind of question is that? He feels like E should already know the answer. E always knows and if he doesn't, he's the guy who'll figure it out. 

"What do you want?" E demands again, his hands pushing up the fabric of Vince's shirt and working the zipper on his pants. E somehow manages to get his tee off and throws it who the fuck knows where before returning his attention to more important things, like touching Vince, touching him everywhere. Vince's completely unimpressive self-control is stretched to the limit as he tries to keep himself from pressing into the pressure on his groin. "Vince, tell me."

"I...E, fucking just..." E finally gets his fly open and he's just lost about a hundred brain cells. 

"Vince?"

"Touch me."

E's fingers are blunt and strong and sliding beneath the band of his boxers and he's on fire. Really, his skin is on fucking fire. He can't stay still anymore and he's writhing. His fingers are digging into the skin on E's sides and his world shrinks to the way E feels until even that's gone and there's nothing left of him but hot white pleasure.

He comes back to himself with E stretched out beside him. He smiles lazily and reaches out to trace the clover tattoo on E's chest.

He remembers when E got it, eighteen for all of an hour, and completely wasted in a tattoo parlor in a part of town their mothers would have killed them for being in. Even with Vince and Turtle chipping in, they hadn't had enough money to ink the leaves in green. 

"You ever going to fill that in?" Vince asks, taking in the difference that chest hair made. A big one. Flat, hard, and hairy instead of soft, curvy, and smooth, but its not freaky. It's almost scary how not freaked he is by this, by E. Of course, three months of subconscious obsessing didn't hurt the adjustment process any.

"No," E replies, running his palm distractedly up and down Vince's arm. 

"You shouldn't," Vince agrees. He leans forward and presses his lips to the word "lucky" scrawled across E's skin. It's apparently a good thing to do because E groans and fists a hand in his hair. 

"Vince."

"Mhm?"

"Fuck, Vince." E tugs at his hair and it feels better than good. It's a request.

It occurs to Vince that this is crunch time. If he's ever gonna back out, the time to do so is now. But he's cool with it. He's excited as he makes his way down E's body and he only hesitates a little before he slides E between his lips.

Vince has never even dreamed of considering himself gay. E's always been there, in his world and thoughts, so E doesn't count. Even with his tongue stuck down E's throat, the idea of being gay never crossed his mind. But he's got E's cock in his mouth, heavy and solid on his tongue, and he's so hard he could hammer nails so maybe he needs to revaluate his labels. Because if this is being gay, it feels great. Hell, he feels like a golden fucking god as E makes harsh noises in the back of his throat and pulls his hair with a tangled grip. 

So maybe he is a little gay. Or a lot. He'll have to ask Lloyd. 

Later. Much, much later, because E is calling for God and Jesus and Vince. He's calling Vince's name, louder than he should and then he's pulling hard, the wrong way. Vince backs off, pushing himself up on his elbows slightly to ask what the fuck he's doing just in time for E's hips to shoot off the bed. As Vince watches, E's face contorts in orgasm in away that he finds half funny. half hot, and a thick, wet splatter of come lands on his right shoulder. 

Vince blinks as E sort of collapses into the mess of his sheet. He runs a finger through the mess on his shoulder, looks at his glistening fingertips, and can't help but laugh.

"Huh?" E asks, sounding half asleep.

"You really need to work on your aim, E," Vince says. Then he loses what little composure he's managed to fake, presses his face into E's thigh, and fails to cover his giggles. 

"What the-" E reaches down, probably looking for Vince's curls, but his hand lands in the mess. "Ugh. That's fucking disgusting, Vince."

"I hear it's great for your skin."

E rolls his eyes. "Get up here. Where do you keep your tissues?"

"Dunno," Vince says, crawling up E's compact frame. He's taking the scenic route and he really likes the view. "You find it?"

"No. You know it wouldn't kill you to be a little organized," E says, ferreting through his nightstand like he's searching for something really important, like condoms. 

Vince chuckles in amusement reaches a hand into the pants he's still wearing and comes up with a small white napkin. He figures that'll do. 

E sees and snatches it from him but stops. There's blocky black letters on it and fuck, he'd forgotten about that. Vince watches his lips move as he reads the resolutions to himself, and he holds his breath. Then E smiles and sets it down on the night stand.

"How 'bout we just take a shower instead," E says. Vince can actually feel warmth and two and a half decades of friendship in the way he looks at him. 

"Together?"

"Yeah. Number three's gonna take team work," E replies with just the barest hint of flush in his face before rolling out of bed. He looks fucking edible naked. Vince shucks the rest of his clothes in quick flailing motions, and follows him into the adjoining bathroom where the water is already running. 

"Just so you know, this really isn't what I had planned for the evening," Vince admits, as he steps into the stream after E. "But it's definitely a lot better than falling asleep on the couch."

The shower is insane, and after five years of living the Hollywood high life, Vince has never gotten used to showers with enough room for five and shower heads on every wall. It's decadent and he loves it. Not as much as he loves E, dripping wet inside it. 

"No kidding. I was thinking a beer and maybe one of Drama's steaks," E says turning around to face him, water flattening his hair and dripping off his nose and eyelashes. "This is fucking crazy."

"So you've said," Vince mumbles, dipping his head to lick beads of water off the skin beneath E's ear. His hands slide almost too smoothly over E's skin as he pulls him close. Just because there is all this space in the shower doesn't mean they have to use it. "I'm glad you're home, E," he murmurs, pressing his lips to whatever part of E he can reach. 

"Me too." E agrees. 

Then he does something Vince would never have imagined in a million fucking years. He relaxes in the hot spray and lets his head rest against Vince's shoulder, and that is when Vince knows for sure. E loves him back. Not like some twisted version of brotherly affection, or as a friend with benefits. E's in love with him right back. Vince is sure if he can just memorize this moment, where E doesn't have to fight or bluster and can just be close to him, then he doesn't think he'll ever need to hear the words. 

"We're going to have to talk to David about this," E says, ever the fucking manager, even cuddling naked in the shower. "Figure out what the hell we're going to do."

"That's number one on my resolutions," Vince says, bending his neck to breathe his response into E's ear. "But it can wait 'til after you finish helping me with two and three. Can't it?"

E folds like a card table and tilts his face towards Vince's. "Yeah. It can wait, at least a little while."

Then Vince kisses him again because it's E, he's got water in that groove above his lips and hey, he's pretty sure it's about to turn midnight somewhere. He's always heard that the way you ring in the New Year sets the tone for the rest of the year. And Vince can't think of a tone that could possibly be better than this. 

 


End file.
